Nightcall
by cannibalisticshadows
Summary: Megamind can't take it anymore. He has to tell her.
1. Chapter 1

This two-shot was inspired by "Nightcall" by Kavinsky! If you haven't yet, go hear it now. It's an awesome song!

~.~

* * *

He's sick.

It's shameful how badly the words sit on his tongue, begging as if it's life or death to be said. And it's sick. So, so sick. Evil gods above, common sense screamed that everything about this was wrong on a million levels. Though "common sense" never applied to him much, this was a boundary even he was unwilling to cross. Their relationship was professional!

But how can he help it when he sees her walk away, hips swaying side to side like a metronome that seems to beat to his heart. He wants to cry out from the tugging at his soul the farther she is from him.

So, he supposes that's why he's always taking her. Mr. Tighty-Whities goes out and entertains hundreds of woman, but there's only one woman that's worth the effort.

These day's he's taking her more frequently. Half-assed schemes be damned, all he cares now is seeing her face again, right in front of him and not on television. To hear her voice being spoken just for him, tones low and seductive and just for him.

 _ **Temptress...**_

He can't _even..._

He digs his fingernails into his palms so hard that even through the kid leather it hurts. He can feel it behind his gums, unsoothable even with his own tongue, which drools with the mere thought of being allowed to touch her in the most chase of ways.

The need to have her to himself has become overpowering. He writes out absurdly poor or well-thought-out plans just for the sake of telling Minion to fetch Ms. Ritchi. Once every-other week has become weekly.

Weekly incidents have become twice, or even thrice, a week.

"Are you okay?" She asks suddenly, tied to her chair and being quieter than usual. No. No that's not right. She's supposed to be talking about the plan. Taunting him. Bantering with him. Why isn't she!? "You kinda seem... tired."

He nervously runs his hands down the crappy built control system of today's Evil Scheme. It's cold here, biting at his exposed skin, but the heat of his desperate, sick want keeps him heated. Bitting into his lower lip, he hunches over the buttons and knobs with his back turned to her. But he watches her from the little mirror he put beside him.

"I am ecstatic," he says with false, half-mad cheer. "Today is the day Metro Man will die."

"Wow," she says mildly. She pauses. "Never hear a death threat before." Despite her tone they both know it's true. He usually says defeat. Is she frightened for once? Nowadays he's not sure if that's a good thing or a bad thing. He bites harder, this time on the tip of his tongue.

He tastes metallic, and it burns his throat.

"Just shut up and be a damsel for once?" He sneers, baring his teeth and turning around to show her. He's angry at himself, not her.

But it makes Roxanne jolt in her seat, comically surprised. Then she goes still, eyes wide with... Something. He can't read her. Always guessing, with her. She doesn't respond, but shrinks a bit in her chair, glowering at him with suspicion.

It's a weird feeling to drawl out this reaction from her.

~.~.~

He's becoming more desperate to help his vice. Withdrawal starts the second Wayne throws him into prison, keeping him quiet and brewing over the duration of his stay. The guards notice; they steer clear of him.

No one is surprised when he breaks out not twenty-four hours later, snarling at the one puny guard who dares to raise a gun at him when he comes charging out.

Minion, barely given the warning he's breaking out on his own, manages to catch him a few miles away from the prison he's running from.

He's sick. Still sick. Still wants to barrel himself through this confusing life with the little bits of the drug that's pretty much the only thing keeping him afloat. An unquenchable hunger that has nothing to do with food, and it gnaws at him like a flesh-eating parasite. And it's so, so wrong. He shouldn't be feeling like this. Shouldn't be physically shaking everything she moans his name in tiredness at yet another kidnapping. Shouldn't be crying into his pillow at night because he wants to hear her voice outside of the television.

Kidnappings are more frequent. At the third kidnapping this week, Roxanne is barely awake which slightly pisses him off. This is a two-person job. He can't just broadcast their trysts with her snoozing! He wants to grab this little woman by the shoulders and shake her—gently—because he just wants to talk to her.

Curse his alien psychology. Because he damn well knows what is happening to him. He knows why he's resorted to spending more time in his room, biting at his own flesh because he can't have what he wants. No. What he **needs**. Minion is starting to catch on, a bit, and Megamind cannot let that happen. No. No he doesn't feel anything more than an annoyance for Ms. Ritchi, Minion! I am not falling into the same cycle my ancestors did!

He has to convince himself that his tone is somewhat convincing. Because it isn't.

Tonight he's determined to do it better. Today's kidnapping ended before it even began, thanks to a sloppily build machine. It ended with a bitter, nasty remark at her choice in dress. He feels like a boy on schoolgrounds, tugging at the cute girl's hair to get her attention.

But anyway. He fixed the machine and he demands a do-over. Tonight. At this very moment.

She's at home, according to one of his spy-bots. not gonna admit that he's so wretched over his own alien heart he's started to spy on her in an indirect way.

He's already on his hoverbike, because Minion, bless him, finally passed out from being worked too hard. He's getting really close to Roxanne's place when—

"Oh, no you don't," says a disapproving, gruff voice.

Snatched out of the air, his bike's handles caught in the same beefy hands used to grab his collar, Megamind finds himself dangling and flailing his limbs.

Fucking Wayne. Fucking fucking fucking Wayne. What does he have to do at this time of night around Roxanne's place, the bloody creep.

Oh. No. Megamind's the creep, he viciously realizes, eyes ablaze with fury. Wayne's the perfect boyfriend. Fuck him, Megamind weeps internally.

"Listen, little buddy," the meat-head starts, pissing off the other alien even more. "You've kidnapped Roxie four times this week. What's your problem?"

"You are my problem," he hisses vehemently. "Let go!"

"No," Wayne sighed, flying off closer to her apartment. Still spitting curses, but also rather confused, because why bring him to his destination when he was usually dropped off at the prison when caught? "You need to see this."

Wayne drops him on the balcony without delicacy, making Megamind hand on his side with the air sucked out of him. Huffing, he stands and wipes dust off him. He breathes in, catching the faint vegetation scent of her potted plants.

His long-time enemy lands beside him on his white-clad toes, staring inside of the glass doors. Peeved, he meets where his gaze lands.

It's Roxanne. Yes, she is home, and not at all conscious.

She's still dressed in the same outfit from earlier; a sleeveless, deep wine-red—almost black—dress that flared at the knees, hugging her hips and derrière like a godforsaken glove. She looked good enough to drink. He couldn't take his eyes off her, earlier,

That could have been a terrible, terrible tease if she hadn't spent the duration of their short encounter today falling asleep. Why was she so tired lately?

She's conked out on her red couch, one leg hiked up over the back of the couch, the other hanging off with her heal barely hanging onto her big toe. Her hair is completely disheveled, her mouth parted open as she drools slightly onto the couch's fabric. One of her arms is curled up behind her hair, with the other hanging off the side of the couch.

And with that hand she's gripping onto a bottle of wine. Her mascara has smeared down her face like black veins.

"You need to back off a bit," Wayne said, his heroism voice gone and replaced with something that actually sounded human. It made things a hundred times worse because Megamind knew what his problem was.

He stood and stared at his poor Roxanne. Why. What the fuck is wrong with him!?

Wayne grabbed him by the collar before he could linger another moment, and he's being thrown back into prison, to the bewilderment of the Warden. Can't blame the old man; everyone could see Megamind was finally losing his marbles. He could see the thoughts in their eyes.

But as he sat in his cell, the tv on but muted, familiar orange jumpsuit scratchy against his sensitive blue skin, he thought over this hell of a month. He was sick of this. Sick of his wretched alien secret of this… need.

It should be below him. It should be abolished from his DNA; a trait his pre-evolved ancestors needed for… things. He was a scientist; an evil genius; a lone wolf. He shouldn't be made weak by the simple, kind smile of a blue-eyed reporter.

Yet he was.

And he knew what he had to do.

Before it destroyed him.


	2. Chapter 2

Megamind drops out of the media. Though the media doesn't drop him.

The spike in his frequent fights with Metro Man has done a complete 360, much to the relief of the locals and to the disappointment of tourists. The news and media alike have leaped onto his sudden change like scavengers to fresh offal. Talk of his recent rendezvous, or lack thereof, are on everyone's mind.

" _He's a maniac_ ," some talk-show host said into the speaker, hunched over a desk looking quite aggressive. The screen of the television baths the blue alien in a dull electronic glow illuminated his reflective eyes. He frowns at the person but having no good point to disagree. He's just offended someone would be so bold to jump into the obvious.

" _He's a maniac, and Metro Man has been taking his sweet-ass time in trying to bring this alien-fuck down. Sure, sure, all-righteous and no-killing and what not. I'm sorry but he's just pious._ " Not just ballsy, but controversial. _"My only guess as to why Megamind has abruptly vanished like a phantom is because our city's hero finally grew a pair and kicked his skinny blue ass into the next life. And by God will none of us miss him. Look at what a shit-show he's turned this city into—"_

Megamind turns the TV off by throwing the remote so hard that it shatters the screen.

Sighing, he crawls out of his little nest of blankets and decides it's time. He's been procrastinating enough; he's done nothing for the past two weeks and it's getting to his head.

His plan to tell Roxanne started out sounding like the only resort to fixing him and his dumb extraterrestrial make-up, but he's been pushing it off since he got home the last time he broke out of prison. Who knew he could really raise some hell by simply doing nothing.

Roxanne has made few appearances on television since her last kidnapping. Sadly enough, due to his absence, she had little to do (at least, to the public eye). She was the main reporter, focusing on Metro City's star inhabitancies. Metro Man had nothing much to do besides helping little old ladies or getting cats from trees—not worthy of making an emergency announcement on the news.

And since he hasn't seen her, he's going into such a stump he's made several near attempts to just show up at her place with no spray. How would she respond?

Well, he'd find out tonight.

He filled the invisible car up with his home-made energy source, making sure it wouldn't run on empty. Tonight he was going out, far enough to reach the boonies.

And he wouldn't be alone.

Megamind, unsure of how she'd react but knowing this would be practically life or death for him, grabbed a few essentials. The de-gun. Knock-out spray. Duck tape. Rope. You know. The usual. This had to go as smooth as possible for him to get serious with her, to assure her he'd never bother her again as long as he got this off his chest so he could wallow in misery with a peace of mind.

So, making sure she's home with the affirmation from one of his spy-bots, Megamind packs up his things in the car and zooms out of the Lair before Minion can so much as ask "Where are you going, Sir?"

When he gets to her building, he uses a brainbot to fly him up to her balcony. She never locks it (Oh, Roxanne, I do question your sanity sometimes), so when he pushes the glass doors open, he enters a relatively quiet domain.

The lights over her tiny kitchen are on, illuminating her one-person apartment. Sniffing, and catching the remnants of her perfume, he follows it until—

"Mega—" Before he gives her time to even finish saying his self-given name, he whips around and gives her a reasonably large dose of spray. She gasps, eyes roll up, and her body drops in a dead weight. Flinging out an arm he catches her, unable to keep his hungry eyes from the expanse of her pale, bare neck. Megamind splays his fingers across her bare, marveling at seeing her for the first time in weeks. It's been too long.

Tonight she's wearing civvies. A pair of dark wash skinny jeans and a white peasant blouse with little red and blue flowers along the neck and sleeves. She's missed a barber appointment, he thinks, as her hair is exactly two centimeters longer than usual. Her hair's also a bit damp, curling ever so slightly at the very ends. She not wearing makeup, either, letting him see all of her little brown freckles dusting her cheeks, like little stars in a milky white setting. He licks his lips.

Megamind ties her wrists and covers her mouth with a cheap duck tape. He's never taped her mouth shut before, but for once he doesn't want her screaming or complaining. And despite every Hollywood movie where the bad guy tapes the victim's mouth shut, it's very possible to remove it without the use of hands.

He carries her out bridal style, whistling for the brainbot to bring him back to the car. Once on the ground, he tucks her into the passenger seat and pulls the belt on, all before getting in himself.

And then he drives. He drives for a long time, content for the moment to sit in silence beside the soft rumble of the car's engine.

Swerving through Metro City's night traffic, the city lights gleaming in this never sleeping place, he keeps his head low as he goes, so stressed he finds himself clutching the wheel so hard it threatens to snap. The leather of his gloves scrunches.

They (he; she's still knocked out) drive out of the midnight city into the rolling countryside, past the lake and past the forests. Lush green hillsides and vast farm lands. He can hear the road scratch under the car tires as asphalt turns into gravel and dirt.

After about forty minutes of driving, he can tell Roxanne is beginning to stir. Quickly, he pulls up beside a huge oak tree in the middle of no where, and void of another living soul for miles.

Well. There is a cow outside but it's like, ten feet away minding its own business.

As the car comes to a stop, he turns the key and all is instantly quiet.

With a soft grunt, Roxanne squirms in her seat and consciousness slowly comes to. He doesn't watch her, choosing to star at his bony knees and twiddle his thumbs. All he can hear is her movements, and his own rapidly beating heart.

"M…Mmm?" Her eyes slowly open, blinking in the dim atmosphere. Her eyes then open wider, and she looks around for the usual sights of a kidnapping. Seeing as they're only in the car, and her mouth is taped, she abruptly begins to struggle.

"Wait!" He says frantically, trying to calm her like one would do for a wild horse. "It's okay! This isn't a kidnapping! Well, technically it is but it's just us—"

"MMM!?" She starts to work her mouth through the tape in earnest, tongue visibly trying to lick at the stickiness.

"Please, wait! This is—I just want to tell you something. Something… important. I promise on my ancestors that you have full permission and more to beat me outside but… please. Just listen to me. Please, Miss Ritchi."

Her struggling stops, and she turns to him with a suspicious glare. He bows his head, flushing in shame. She hates me.

Though she's trapped him under an intense stare, snaring him more than he had with her, Roxanne goes still as if awaiting for whatever stupid thing he's got to say to her.

"I… want to apologize, for my behavior two weeks ago. It was unforgivable."

"Mm."

"But—I… I…"

She glares harder. Ashamed of himself, he turns his stare to the dashboard.

"I love you."

He doesn't look up to catch her reaction, but she doesn't respond verbally.

"I love you, I love you, I love you." He bangs his forehead against the steering wheel with each confession, feeling all the pint up emotions in him pouring out like water from a broken dam. It burns his insides with glorious relief and bittersweet shame all at once. Yet it keeps flowing. "And I'm so, so sorry. It's—not my choice, Miss Ritchi. I can't help it. My b-body…Ah—s—" he stutters, so anxious it's close to making him piss himself. He can feel it claw at this throat, threatening tears. "My species… we d-don't have crooches, like a human. We… fall in love. Hard. And once. Only once. Once and only with one person. And that's it. We mate for life, like doves. Or beavers. Wolves. I-It doesn't matter. But once the relationship is formed that's it. Cheating or finding a second love if the other leaves or dies is purely an earthly concept. My own p-parents, they—they only had eyes for each other. Sex or romance wasn't even a concept I understood before I met y—…. I didn't chose you, Miss Ritchi. I didn't want this to happen. You don't deserve this. I've already turned your life into a living hell, and for that I cannot apologize enough, even onto my grave. My transgressions are unforgivable. Yet, even being here on Earth I cannot…. There is no place for me. My planet, it's… I'm all that's left. And Minion. I didn't think I could possibly imprint on anyone, much less a human, in this way. Yet… I am so sorry. It's all my fault. I should have known…"

She's fidgeting ever so softly beside him, he hears the crinkle of the tape.

He doesn't realize he's crying until he takes in a staggering breath, wet tears rolling down his sharp face and trickling on his lips. Salty like the sea.

He can't bring himself to speak again in fear of weeping like a damn baby, but he feels as vulnerable as one in the moment. Weak. Childish. Pathetic.

The car falls into a silence, with his shaky breaths and a light breeze rolling against the windows. Other than that, it's as quiet as a void. He glances at her from the corner of his eye, and sees her staring outside at the cow as if it had done something personal to disrespect her.

They sit in silence for a long time.

"I'm done," he suddenly says.

He hears her move around again.

"I'm… I'm done. With this business," he gestures to himself in general, to the car, to his gun. "I mean, there are things you don't know about. Things I've done behind cameras. In the underworld. I've committed enough sins to last multiple lifetimes over. There's blood on my hands. Miss Ritchi. Like you wouldn't believe. And… I'm going to give it up. I can't keep doing this…

"This such a archaic concept for me. Aah, uh, did you know… Of course you wouldn't… The males, sometimes even the females, of my kind have to… catch the other sometimes. To express that they feel the same way. Avoids miscommunication or misplaced feelings. My own father… had to sneak into my mother's household as teenagers to propose to her. It's—I didn't even realize it until recently I was courting you! Unconsciously! I'm—God I'm so sorry, Miss Ritchi. I just need to go away. "

She lets out a muffled sound again.

"I'm moving from this place," he looks around at the vast farmland, the dot of the city in the distance, reflected by his rear-view mirror. "Romania sounds nice. I do a lot of business over there. Lots of forests and hillsides where there's no one for miles. I can't bother you or anyone out th—"

Roxanne suddenly spits.

Looking over to her in surprise, he sees she has vanquished the duck tape and has rolled it up in her mouth to spit it onto the dashboard. Turning on one hip, she faces him with such a glower it chills him to the very bone.

"Don't. You. Dare," she hisses.

He shrinks in his seat.

"Don't you dare drop this on me and say you're just gonna leave!" She yells, pulling against her taped wrists. He opens his mouth to let out a string of never ending apologies, but—she's starting to cry, he sees, much to his absolute horror. Has he truly upset her this bad? He really was a monster.

"How—you stupid, stupid man," she cries out, and suddenly—he sees her raise her arms, still taped by the wrist, and he honestly thinks he's about to be hit when—

She loops her arms around his big blue head and latches onto his neck, yanking him closer and making him clumsily fall onto the stick shift as—

Her mouth is on his. So hard do their mouths come together that their teeth clack, faces clashing together he barely has time to process what's happening. Gasping, hands wild and unsure in the air as she seemingly tries to suck his soul out, but—he knows what's happening, mildly, but a bigger part of him is convinced he's dreaming or hit his head.

The feeling of her lips touching his, though, is electrifying. Every nerve in his body begins to sing and scream all at once, overwhelming him with a sensation override. She moans and presses closer, both of them awkward and clumsy as they clutch at the other from opposite seats. Clutched… he feels his hand involuntarily grab her waist, holding his close but terrified he's mixing the signals. It feels so so so good, though, and—

She pulls away before he can even realize he was responding back, albeit unsurely. Arms locked around his neck, he mentally curses himself for tying her up. But. It felt like the thing to do at the time.

"You listen to me you son of a bitch," she viciously spats. "You come to my place, ten'o'freakin'clock at night, and tell me you love me only then to say you're leaving? What the actual hell!?"

He attempts to pull back, hide in his shell, run away from her furious reprimand, but his neck is still trapped by her arms. Shit. Really a bad decision to tie her up. The alien's prepared to say something, anything, to show how much of a lowly creature he is in her light, but all that comes out of his throat are choked warbles and whimpers. "I—"

She sniffles.

He meets her eyes in surprise to see two glassy blue orbs meeting his. Frantically, he try to console the weepy female by nervously patting her back. "Ah—M-Miss Ritchi—"

"You were such an A-hole," she says, sobbing. "Megamind, for once you were actually cruel. It scared me."

"Oh, oh my dear—No, no, my sweet, no! I wasn't—" he swallows. "I wasn't trying to be cruel. I was just frustrated. With myself. With my instincts. I—if I behaved any less I would have made a fool of myself."

"Well, you already did that by yelling at me, you cabbage."

"I-I'm sorry."

"You made me feel like a whore the last kidnapping."

He remembers that dress she wore. Wine red, rimmed in black. His... comment to it. Megamind bows his head and clenches his whole body. "I am sorry."

"And you made me worry about you. I haven't seen you in weeks."

Confused, he looks up at her. Roxanne then pulls at her arms and lets him go from between them. Gesturing with her wrists, he catches her drift and pulls out his trusted butterfly knife and whips it out, glad to have something to do with a tool he's familiar with. Nothing else felt familiar; alien and strange.

As the plastic finally rips away, her skin safe from his sharp little friend, she wraps her hands around his neck and yanks him to her again. Eyes wide, he numbly feels her kiss him a few quick, consecutive times before—

She slaps him in the chest.

He's nearly got a concussion from how bad the whiplash is.

"Is it true?" Roxanne demands. He's unable to speak. "Is it true? Do you love m—"

"Yes. Yes, I love you. A million times over."

This little woman shakes her head, eyes glistening with something he can't begin to understand. He feels like he's drowning, with a weight tied to his feet to prevent him to swimming to the surface. He can't breathe. She then grabs onto his shoulders. Shaking her head again, she says, "Then don't go to Romania. Don't leave Metro City. This place is our-your home."

"Miss Ritchi, I can't… stay around you anymore," his voice breaks. "I can't without—"

Her lips are on his again.

Shocked, but rapidly trying to learn this new skill she's apparently trying to teach him, he responds as best he can. Periwinkle blue to unpainted pink, their lips press against each other, seining the warmth and the wet of the other's mouth. He once saw this activity between lovers an unsanitary and strange thing, but now he understands its meaning. His lips are quite sensitive, and this kissing sets his body to flame, scrambling towards something he can't seem to catch.

When she pulls away, he follows her, not wanting this connection to end. A tiny bead of saliva snaps between them as their lips depart.

"For such a genius, you can be unbelievably dense." She cups his face. "I love you Megamind."

What.

"God, I love you. And your behavior, this month—I thought you'd finally lost it. Or just got tired of me."

His first instinct is to respond yes, yes he has lost it, completely and utterly, but—

"You—you what—"

Roxanne shakes her head again, this time smiling so wide that it nearly reaches her ears, all pearly whites on display for him. She lets him go, finally, letting him think straight. Which is bad because his brain runs in about five hundred directions. Blinking rapidly to disperse the tears in her wet lashes, she continues with, "I'm glad you told me this. Because—I was considering on moving as well."

He jolts in his seat.

"I sometimes get job offers in other places. This time… I had an offer in Liverpool."

" _Leeverpul!?_ What's in _Leeverpul?"_

"I like the British accent. And it's far, far away from here."

Hapless, he stares at his knees.

"Hey," she pulls him out of his stupor. "Look at me. That's better. Now. That stuff you said about… imprinting on me? Is that true, too?"

"All of it," he breaths.

Roxanne nods her head and leans back against the leather seats. "Then listen to me. I love you with all of my heart. I have for a long time, Megamind. So it hurt me, so, so much with how much of a dick you were suddenly turning into. You may as well have stabbed me in the heart." He winces. "And then you just up and vanished. Gone. Everyone is talking about you!"

He can't believe what she's saying. It's nothing like he ever imagined happening in any probable outcome of this. She… actually… returned his feelings? What? What witchcraft is this!? He really must've bumped his head hard!

"I... know. I see the news. I see my lack of an appearance in the public eye has given you less work… Ah, are you sleeping better?"

She looks at him in confusion.

"You were always falling asleep."

Roxanne lets out a loud sigh. "I know… I know…"

"Why." It isn't a question.

"I always thought you were just a bit ol'sweetheart that grew up on the wrong side of the law. I fall in love with you a little harder every time you goof around like that. I hate that you're always destroying something or trying to start a fight, but it was a little endearing." She lets out another loud exhale. "And then you started acting like I was shit under your shoe."

"N—!"

She raises a hand, and he immediately goes silent.

"So I started drinking. Tried to drink the pain away. But that doesn't work," her voice breaks a bit.

He wants to bang his head against the wall.

"And I hate that you dragged me out here," she motions toward the countryside. "You don't have to ship yourself off to God knows where, but stopping the kidnapping would be nice. Even if it's apart of your… culture."

"Whatever-Whatever you desire," he swears reverently.

"What I desire," she says, placing a hand on his knee, "is for you to take me home."

He nods, expecting that answer.

"And I want you to come up with me. We're gonna have a talk."

"O-kay...?"

Suddenly she leans over again and presses his lips to his cheek. With his breath hitching, because its still a lovely, foreign feel to him, she adds, "And then I'm going to show you how much I love you, too."

"W—"

"I know you, Megamind. I can see it in your face. Now. Take us home, sweetheart." She kisses his lips again.

This time he knows what to do, and copies her actions better than before. It feels like fireworks.

He's glad he told her.


End file.
